


The Splendour of Love

by islasands



Series: Lambski [33]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life, Squeaky cheese, The food of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:37:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islasands/pseuds/islasands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sauli disregards Adam's wishes and goes for a walk - on his own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Splendour of Love

Sauli slammed the door on his way out and Adam full body jolted at the slam. The glass he was holding tipped some of its contents on his bare legs and he jolted again. He wiped his leg and did a vague search of his mind for aggravation but there was none. Nor were there any misgivings. No self-reproach. How often did he lose his temper? Hardly ever. He set the glass down and stretched out his legs. He flicked through the television channels and stopped at a documentary about Picasso. As he went to sleep he recorded a particular sentence. “ _The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web.”_

Sauli, meanwhile, walked out onto the street and stopped on the pavement to take his bearings. He looked at the faces of the buildings, the sky, and the people walking past him and decided, arbitrarily, to walk in a certain direction. He pulled up his hood and put his hands in his pockets. With their argument safely behind him he felt free as a bird. Well, it wasn’t even an argument. It never was. He grinned, remembering Adam’s accusation, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as selfish as you! The one afternoon, the _only_ afternoon. Go on then. Fuck off.” God, I love him, he thought. He squeezed up his shoulders at his contentment. I adore him, and that’s all there is to it.

As he walked he looked at the people coming towards him. An older woman glanced at him as she passed, smiling that odd smile older women smile when they want to conceal the effect of gravity on their mouths. Then came two men, about his own age, whose clothing concealed nothing about their careless, effortless, physical strength. They were laughing at something on one of their phones. Next, a group of working girls passed him. They looked like a bunch of flowers in high heels, all of them adorned and scented with the consciousness of wanting to be picked. Then a woman came straight towards him, forcing him to give way, tight lipped, hauling one of her sons along by his collar. Sauli turned back to watch them. The boy was pulling away. The mother’s grip was unyielding.

His father used to do that. Lift him right up by the scruff of his clothing and dump him out of temptation’s reach, with strict instructions not to move a muscle of his recalcitrant body.  He was always a prey to tempatation. The moment he opened his eyes he could feel it in the taunting chemistry of light itself. Get up! Get in me! His energy would ball up inside him like a miniature tornado. He would leap out of bed, his feet striking the floor more by way of announcing his adventurous intentions than merely following bipedal custom. He was upright on purpose! He was ready, willing and able to touch what he should not touch, go where he should not go, say what he should not say!

Energized by this memory he returned to contemplating the love of his life. My silly siipa, he thought. The memory of him lying with his head on his shoulder that morning... his hair prickling his face, mumbling against his chest, holding onto him like as though he was a life raft, made him wince at the poignancy of love. My poor, silly, siipa. When he most needs to be alone he can’t bear it. Always wants to share his sufferings so he doesn't have to feel them. And it’s so tempting to fall into the trap of letting him do it! Anyone would. You try loving a man like him! Lying there, holding him tight, stroking his freckled shoulders, feeling the weight of his legs and arm pinning me down, looking at the blonde fuzz of hair on his arms, aware that his hand is absentmindedly scratching at my chest, listening to his muffled voice droning on and on about this or that, - God, how it all hurts me with wanting to protect him! No, really. It actually hurts. When he’s unhappy he’s like a wounded animal. He talks and talks as though he is thinking, as though he is analysing, but in reality he’s like an animal, a wolf in a trap, gnawing at his own leg in his effort to escape.

I cannot free him. It’s not my job. So it is fortunate for us both that I am a good cook.

Sauli stopped outside a delicatessen. He gazed at the food display. The shop person looked out the window at him. He was young, good looking. He smiled encouragingly at Sauli. Sauli smiled back cheerfully and as he smiled he was reminded of Adam’s angry accusation, “You are such a fucking flirt! You ask for it. You do! You want the whole damn world to want you! I can’t compete with the world. And I won’t! Fucking. Do it!” Remembering this outburst made him want to pirouette on the spot. He liked his lover’s possessiveness. He liked his lack of remorse. He liked being fucked to within an inch of his life. He liked it when Adam, victorious, heroic, practically sneering at him with the smugness of conquest, leaned over him and said “If you are ever stupid enough to leave me I won’t come after you. I’ll wait till you come to your senses. It‘s an inescapable truth that you couldn’t break my heart without breaking your own.” It was true.

And then, - what had he said when he laid down next to him, found his hand and clasped it, and stared belligerently at the ceiling? “Fuck, I’m starving!” Sauli forgot the young man and examined the food display more assiduously. He wished he could lay his hands on some Leipäjuusto. Squeaky cheese! His favourite as a kid. The juice cleansing was great, they both liked talking up its benefits, but he suspected Adam channelled his craving for something more substantial into full on, aggressive sex. My siipa needs some cheese, he thought. And crusty bread. Before he breaks my bones!

He laughed. He went inside the delicatessan and made some purchases. He continued his walk but now he had no interest in the passerbys. He felt exuberantly foreign, alone with the Finnish language in his head. What he wouldn’t give to be snowboarding right now. Alone with speed and a white slope. Or waiting alone on his surfboard for a wave that he still couldn’t quite ride. He missed doing those things. Missed playing like a child with items that are majestic. Speeding down the splendour of a mountain. Riding the unfathomable force of an ocean. Really, when you think about it, cities and houses and their contents are nothing more than nicely furnished prisons.

His train of thought abruptly stopped. The idea of a prison made him think of his love. Sitting there alone in their hotel, most likely asleep. Yes, he would definitely be asleep, like a polar bear stuck on an ice floe who can only escape from hunger by falling asleep. And he needs to sleep. Not talk. And I need time to think of what to have for dinner.

I will entice him back to shore with food.

He opened the door and went straight to the kitchen with his parcels of food. He began unwrapping them. He didn’t hear Adam coming up behind him to encircle his waist with his arms.

“Oh, yum. You smell so good.”

Sauli turned in his arms and held the packet up to his nose. “It’s not the one I wanted, but it’s still pretty good. What I really wanted was to get you some squeaky cheese.”

“Not that,” Adam said. “I mean you. You smell good. You smell like cold air. All frosty.”

He took the packet out of Sauli’s hand and laid it on the bench. He kissed Sauli, breathing in the cold of his lips and cheeks and blue, blue eyes. As they kissed his mind suddenly exerted itself in a flurry of images. The sky over a white mountain. His favourite page from the world atlas that showed pictures of the earth’s minerals. Another page in his journal where he had written Sauli’s name next to his. A crowd of people coming towards him whose faces were a blur. A white lemur – of all things! – swinging though branches like an agile, spindly, hairy ghost. And at the last, a spider web, trembling with the weight of dew drops.

He pulled back and stared in amazement at Sauli as though he was the cause of the pictures in his head. Sauli smiled at him tenderly. He threw his arms around him. He felt ready for anything. He was young and fit and strong. He could easily race, ride, and risk his life upon the splendour of love. Plus he was a good cook. 

Adam lifted him up and spun them both around slowly.


End file.
